There Once Was a Boy Named Elliot
by CorkyTheGuar
Summary: Fable III through the eyes of the female Hero's childhood sweetheart.
1. Chapter 1

"You're up early, Elliot. That's good. Very good."

I winced at the gruff, booming voice that effectively halted my progress into the washroom, straightened my posture, and quickly turned around to peer across the castle's grand, spacious hallway towards the source of the impressive sound. Indeed, it was very early and as such, only the most delicate caress of faint, dawn light filtered through the enormous wall of windows to my left. I was, however, still able to make out the unmistakable silhouette that surged toward me with a large sword in each hand.

My toes curled into the plush rug beneath them, and I gritted my teeth at the rapidly approaching form of an impossibly immense man who deftly heaved one of the swords at me. The whirring hum of the blade as it cut through the still air rang loudly in my ears, and I bent my knees to brace myself. After muttering a quiet curse under my breath, I thrust my arm forward, and by some miracle, managed to avoid the cartwheeling blade and grasped the sword by the hilt.

I barely had time to blink before the second sword came slicing towards me, this one still in the iron grip of my attacker. It met the blade in my hand with such force that I was shoved against the wall behind me. The impact of my body caused a large painting above me to dislodge, and I dove to the side to narrowly avoid it crashing down onto my head. I rolled and was on my feet in an instant, only to be met with another fearsome blow.

There is something terribly unnerving about the piercing clang of metal against metal- even more so when it is accompanied by a force that travels along the blade in the form of a sharp ache that shoots through one's fingers, up the arm, and into the shoulder. It's something that I don't think I'll ever get used to.

"Is this-" my words were halted when another impact wracked through my arm as I blocked the third blow. I winced from the pain and managed to suck in a ragged breath.

"-really-" a fourth blow nearly wrenched the sword from my hand and my fingers trembled weakly against the hilt.

"-necessary?" I finished the question with a gasp as my foe's blade rested a hair's thickness away from the flesh of my neck.

"I'm afraid it is, boy." An enormous hand wrapped around the collar of my pajamas and lifted me up so that my feet dangled nearly half a yard above the floor. It should have been illegal for a man to be so tall, especially since my own height was comparable to that of the average woman. I scoffed at the mischievous glint in my 'enemy's' dark eyes.

"This couldn't have waited until I changed out of my sleeping clothes? Or at the very least until _after_ I used the restroom?" I should have known better than to address a knight with such an impertinent tone of voice.

There was an upward quirk of the man's lips beneath his rather impressive silver moustache, "I believe that the value of catching you off guard outweighed the possibility of you ruining the royal carpets with the contents of your full bladder- especially now that you seem to have graduated from footed pajamas."

I tried my best to suppress the blush from rising to my cheeks. I swear to you that I did _not_ piddle on the floor- although it would have been justified considering that a high ranking knight had just attacked me while I was still half asleep- nor have I ever worn footed pajamas. Ever. But I wasn't about the dispute either fact any further. It would have only served to add fuel to the old man's fire, so I decided to change the subject.

"What about the possibility of ruining the King's official portrait? You seem to have no qualms about that, Sir Walter."

"True. You were a second away from wearing that painting. I could just see it now- your head bursting through the canvas, right around the spot where Logan's own head is... Prophetic if you ask me." I cocked an eyebrow at the knight's words as he continued to speak, "Have you never stopped to entertain the thought that one day you could be King?" He whispered.

"Surely you jest." I considered crossing my arms, but such a self-assured gesture would have looked ridiculous since I was still dangling in the grip of a man who could break me in half with the flick of a wrist. All of which, only made his previous words seem even more bizarre.

"The Princess is rather fond of you, Elliot. Or are you too much of a dolt to have noticed?"

This time I could not keep from blushing.

"I...she...If...If we were to...be together...well... that would just make me a prince then," I sputtered pathetically, "She's...she's not the Queen, Walter."

"Yet." The expression in the old knight's face was unnervingly unreadable.

"Regardless, we haven't so much as gone out on a date, and you speak as though she were asking for my hand in marriage," I paused to shut my eyes tightly and shook my head. I was getting rather uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading, and I really, _really_ needed to urinate, "Could you put me down, Sir Walter? Please?"

"Begging for mercy are you?"

"Yes. I bow to your might and concede defeat." I smiled sheepishly as he put me down, placed a hand on my head, and ruffled my hair.

"Now hurry and wash up. Your combat training will resume shortly."

I groaned audibly, to which Sir Walter cleared his throat and frowned.

"For that, I think your session shall be twice as long as usual."

I swiftly closed the washroom door without further complaint, and after emptying my 'full bladder' as Sir Walter had so artfully described, I made my way over to the tub. Jasper, the royal butler, was accustomed to my habit of rising early and already had the staff fill the tub with freshly heated water. I had never known a kinder, more patient man than good old Jasper. As I removed my pajamas, I briefly questioned the merit of bathing when I would inevitably become filthy again after my training session with Sir Walter. I quickly shoved my doubts aside, if only to avoid thinking about the humiliation I would soon be subjected to, and entered the tub.

I often wondered why the old knight even bothered. It had been nearly a year since he had taken me under his wing and began training me in swordsmanship alongside the Princess. That she had taken to the training so eagerly and effortlessly only made things worse for me as I lagged behind. I wasn't surprised at her prowess with a blade, seeing as her father was the mighty Hero King. No one in all of Albion was ignorant to all that he had done for the kingdom, and there was no one who didn't owe their very existence to that benevolent ruler. Indeed, the Princess had the blood of a hero coursing through her veins. My veins were decidedly less noble. I never knew my real parents, but the woman who raised me, bless her heart, had been an advisor to the late King. So I grew up in the castle alongside the Princess.

After bathing, I exited the tub and headed over to the mirror. My hair had become rather long in the front and some of the strands touched my eyebrows. If only the hair on my face would grow half as quickly. I lamented as I examined my jawline- not even a hint of stubble. No matter what Sir Walter said, I was no longer a boy, but with my baby-faced countenance and my previously mentioned short stature, the casual observer would have no trouble disputing that fact. How I would ever impress the Princess, I didn't know.

* * *

"Have you learned nothing? Where is your head, boy?"

"I think you may have lopped it off with your sword," The session went just as badly as I had envisioned. I had tried my best, although Sir Walter would have been hard pressed to believe me if I told him so, "Where is the Princess?" I wondered aloud as I struggled to catch my breath, although, her failure to observe my laughable performance was no doubt a blessing.

"I believe that she's still in bed. You've been thinking about her, eh? Does that distraction explain your horrendous display of poor swordsmanship?"

I smirked as I lifted myself off of my now sore rump. I had lost count of how many times I had landed on it. Again, I could detect a cheerful glint in Sir Walter's eyes, and a light-hearted hint in his tone. The old knight often pushed me hard physically, but his words towards me were never harsh. Frustrated, yes- but never harsh. I don't think I would have been able to handle it if they ever were. Perhaps Sir Walter knew just as well as I did that training me was a useless endeavor. Perhaps he felt sorry for me. I bit my lower lip at the thought.

"Strike me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, boy. Give me all that you have. Channel everything into one single strike. Do this, and you can consider your training to be over."

"For..._Forever_?" My voice reeked with false hope.

"For the day, you dolt. For the _day_." The exasperated knight sighed wearily, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

It was worth a try.

With his eyes still closed, I suddenly surged forward, my sword held tightly in my grip as I prepared to strike him just as he had commanded. The old knight wasn't the only one who could catch someone off guard. His eyes were wide as they snapped open and registered that I was mere inches away from him. Hopefully he wouldn't have time to react. Hopefully I could knock the sword out of his hands...

In a flash of gleaming steel, our blades connected. I couldn't even see the movement of the old man's arms as he moved his sword to meet my attack. Surely I would be regretting this stunt in the morning, if not from the pain in my arms from the impact of the impressive strike, then from the beating Sir Walter would undoubtedly give me for resorting to such an underhanded trick.

Before I knew it, I was on my back peering up at Sir Walter, who held his sword up triumphantly and promptly rested a booted foot on my chest.

"Thoroughly vanquished," I wheezed, if only to add more dramatic flare to the situation, as the knight was hardly applying any pressure with his foot. He shook his head and helped me back onto my feet.

"Nice try," he grunted, "Your tactics were...well they weren't exactly admirable, but I must admit, that was pretty crafty of you. You _almost_ got the job done," He pointed to the spot on the ground where my sword had landed, and my jaw dropped upon realizing that it had been broken in half.

It shouldn't have been possible, but the man had somehow managed, with a flick of his arm, to counteract and surpass all of the momentum I had put into my strike.

"How?" I demanded, "How on earth did you do that?"

"Do what? Summon awe-inspiring speed and strength?" Sir Walter puffed out his broad chest and haughtily lifted his chin.

"No," I grinned, "How did you manage to switch my sword for such a cheap yet convincing prop? You're even more crafty than I am, old man. I thought it felt lighter than usual." To my amusement, Sir Walter promptly deflated at my retort. He then collected himself and ruffled my hair again- this time with his knuckles.

"If only your movements were as quick as that tongue of yours, you'd be one of the greatest warriors in all of Albion," he chuckled.

If only.


	2. Chapter 2

I excused myself from Sir Walter's company and hurried over to the washroom once more. The morning's physical exertion had left me sweating rather heavily, and I had no intention of allowing the Princess to see- or smell- me in such a deplorable condition. To my delight, the bath tub had been filled once more to the brim with a fresh batch of warm water. That Jasper truly was a saint.

I stumbled upon the man after changing into one of my most dapper outfits: a dark blue, sleeveless waistcoat atop a cream colored button up shirt and matching trousers.

"Morning Jasper, and many thanks." I cordially addressed the tall, slender butler who stood prim and poised before me with an ornate tea pot on a silver platter that rested serenely upon the palm of his left hand.

"Good day to you, Master Elliot. I trust that you are well."

"For the moment, yes, but I'm sure that this morning's activities will catch up to me sooner rather than later. Where is the Princess? I would love nothing more than to have breakfast with her."

Jasper's sunny demeanor quickly turned sullen, and the tea pot rattled slightly as he shifted his weight.

"I'm afraid she woke up feeling ill and is still in bed."

"Ill?" The Princess rarely ever fell ill, so I was as much surprised as I was worried at the news. My distress must have been pretty apparent because Jasper was quick to assure me that her condition was nothing too serious.

"The healers and medical staff have been tending to her since daybreak."

"I must see her."

"My apologies, Master Elliot, but the Princess has expressly requested that no visitors be allowed into her chambers."

"Oh..." My heart sank. _Not even me_? "Well then, can I help out in any way?"

"As a matter of fact, I do believe that you can. The Princess has complained of a persistent cough and a sharp soreness of her throat that keeps her from getting any rest. I know of an old family remedy handed down to me by my mother that can rid her of these symptoms and allow her to more effectively recuperate. However, I lack most of the necessary ingredients to concoct it. Would you be willing to acquire them for me?"

"Of course."

"Very well then. Give me but a few minutes and I shall gather everything you will need." The veteran butler fumbled awkwardly for a moment, no doubt looking for a place to set the platter and tea pot down. When I extended my arms to accept them from him, he hesitated briefly before handing them over to me.

"I apologize for this indignity, Master Elliot. I shall be back shortly."

I grinned at his words and stared at the fine china and silverware in my arms as he rushed down the staircase in a flurry of rapid movement. The man really had a way of making people feel much more important than they actually were. No wonder he was such a hit with all of the nobility.

"Oh _yes_, Jasper. How _dare_ you impress such a menial task upon someone of my lofty status. Now, chop-chop!" I hoped he could tell that I was joking, because the poor fellow seemed to double his pace once he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Jasper truly must have been sprinting, because he was back in no time to alleviate me from the 'offensive' chore of holding the tea pot and silver platter. He brought with him a small travel bag, a piece of parchment, and short sword from the armory. My heart had already begun to beat faster from the prospect of potentially helping the Princess in her time of need, but it was threatening to burst through the wall of my chest once the benign silverware in my hands was replaced by the cold, steel instrument of death. Once again, my distress seemed to register with the old butler.

"The sword is merely a precaution, as I believe this task to be well within the limits of a knight-in-training such as yourself. If it would make you more comfortable, I could see about making arrangements for Sir Walter to accompany you on this little quest."

"No. That's quite alright, Jasper. I think I can handle this myself."

"As do I, Master Elliot." He patted my shoulder and smiled.

Soon I was headed out of the castle with the travel bag strapped to my back and the sword in its scabbard at my waist. As I stepped into the castle's courtyard garden, I began to read from the list of items that Jasper had written on the piece of parchment in his distinctly perfect penmanship.

* * *

Jasper's Health Tonic  
(Patent-Pending)

1. Three Violets- These plants have the remarkable ability to sooth a sore throat. The stems can be discarded but the flowers, leaves, and roots are all required.  
I trust that you know what they look like as the flowers are, well... _violet_ in color.

2. Pine cones- To serve as a disinfecting agent once they are converted to an essential oil through the process of steam distillation.  
Do not worry if you don't know what 'distillation' means, as it is not important to the task at hand, and because I don't really know what it means either.  
I am merely repeating what my mother used to tell me. There is a jar in your travel bag. Fill it to the brim with the pine cones.

3. A Mortar and Pestle- For crushing and grinding the violets into a drinkable mixture when mixed with fresh water. We had several of these in the kitchen, but the absent-minded  
cook somehow managed to break one, misplace another, and hopelessly soil the third with soot-covered chicken feathers, of all things.  
There is more than enough gold in your travel bag to buy one of a high quality.

Good luck and godspeed, Master Elliot.

* * *

Gathering the violets would be simple enough. There were plenty of them growing right there in the garden, but I decided to keep from plucking them until I was back with the other items. The fresher the better, I assumed. Similarly, obtaining the mortar and pestle required nothing more than a trip to Bowerstone Market. The pine cones, on the other hand, were going to take a bit more effort to obtain, and were the reason Jasper saw it fit to provide me with the sword. I would have to travel to Silverpines and gather the fallen cones from the trees within that rather dark and foreboding forest. But if it meant making the Princess feel better, no matter how slightly, it was well worth doing.

I left the detached serenity of the castle and its garden and descended into the hustle and bustle of the market. The human traffic was at its mid-morning peak as everyone hurried to take advantage of the sales taking place in many of the shops that had just opened for the day. I had joked to Jasper about my 'lofty status' because in reality, unlike true and proper members of the nobility, I did not command any sort of respect from Albion's common folk. No one outside the castle knew who I was, so they would see me as an ordinary, if rather well-dressed, young man- which was perfectly fine by me. Of course, this meant that I would have to stand in line like everyone else, but with the Princess suffering in bed, that wouldn't precisely be putting my time to good use. The mortar and pestle would have to wait as well.

Silverpines had to be my first stop, not only because the shops would be less busy by the time I returned, but I also wanted to get in and out of that forest while the sun was still high and bright in the sky.

After treading carefully through the crowded market streets, I left via the city gates and traveled briskly down the cobblestone path towards Millfields- a rather beautiful area of rolling hills and posh mansions surrounding a lake so calm and clear that it seemed to be made of glass instead of water. Reaver, the infamous business tycoon and one of Albion's wealthiest individuals, was the owner of the largest mansion overlooking the lake. It is said that he had a hand in the disappearance of the free-spirited gypsies that used to inhabit the area, and I had no trouble believing those rumors.

In no time at all, the edge of the forest loomed ahead of me, and I took a moment to mentally prepare myself as a cloud of mist began rolling in from amidst the maze of trees. I had heard stories about this forest, and of the dark creatures that skulked about within it. Needless to say, I quickly removed the glass jar from my travel bag and got to work collecting the pine cones from the damp, mossy ground. The sunlight was patchy and dull as it filtered through the ever thickening mist and the dense canopy of leaves above me. Apparently, it wasn't the ideal time of year for collecting pine cones, as most of them still clung rather firmly to the branches high above my head. Unfortunately, I was forced to venture further and further into the forest due to both the scarcity of pine cones on the ground, and how big the jar was. Eventually I was forced off the stone trail to continue my search amidst tangled foliage and spongy, moss covered earth.

With my jar half-way full, I took a moment to observe the crumbling remains of large stone ruins that stood wraith-like in the hazy gloom. Their damp surfaces were peppered with layers of moss and lichens that served to partially obscure the intricately carved designs and runic symbols that adorned them. I found them so fascinating that I almost failed to notice how quiet it had suddenly become. All of the birds had stopped chirping, and even the wind seemed to be holding its breath. I stopped moving immediately and lowered myself into a crouched position.

A shiver wracked through my body as a feeling of uneasiness began creeping through me. Once the wind began to pick up again, I became aware of a strong musky odor that wafted against my face and assaulted my nostrils. At that point, my heart started racing. There was definitely something lurking around just out of sight, and as I began to slowly make my way back towards the stone path, I heard leaves rustling from within a dense cluster of bushes to my right, not more than ten yards away. I froze and the noises stopped. Whatever was in there was consciously stalking me- waiting until I made a move to creep closer, and stopping whenever I did.

Still in my crouched position, I backed up against a pine tree, kept my eyes sharply focused on the spot in the bushes where I thought the creature was, and tried to keep my breathing as even and quiet as possible.

_Please, just be a rabbit. I beg of you._

Pins and needles began crawling up my feet and calves. I had to keep moving before my legs became numb. As I edged closer to the path, the sharp brittle crack of a snapping branch rang like an explosion in my ears.

It had come from behind me.

In a panic I dropped the jar, whirled around, and withdrew my sword. The metallic swoosh of the blade as it emerged from the scabbard caused a powerful roar to reverberate from the center of the forest. The horrific sound bounced around the walls of my chest and filled my heart almost to bursting with dread. I was so distracted by the noise that I had no time to prepare when the creature in the bushes lunged.

It was on me in an instant, pinning me to the ground with the weight of its body. With a terrified yell, I swung the sword wildly, and its jaws clamped down on the steel blade. Frenzied, sulfur colored eyes met my own in a murderous gaze. The pale fur on its muzzle bristled as it curled its lips and snarled. The gust of hot, rancid breath was unbearable. Its paws flailed madly as it continued to bite down on the sword, which was the only thing separating its fetid teeth from my neck. I gripped the sword for dear life with my right hand while my left hand dug into the furry ruff of the creature's neck. As I pushed with all of my might, desperate to keep the thing away from me, my blade cut into the skin of its mouth and gums which caused a mixture of blood and saliva to drip onto my chin and neck.

The beast yelped in pain and released its jaws from the sword. I managed to bring my feet up and kicked it in the chest. As it staggered away from me, I rolled onto my side and scrambled to my feet. I held my sword in front of me in a defensive posture as the wolf circled around me. Its ears were pulled flat against its skull, its back was arched, and the coarse fur on the back of its neck stood up on end. It continued to snarl incessantly as blood pooled around the gaping wound in its mouth.

I backed away slowly, only to hear the rapid pounding of clawed feet against the leafy ground behind me. Out of sheer instinct, I ducked and felt the rush of air as a second wolf sailed mere inches above my head. It landed directly in front of me, but before it could turn around- before it could pin me to the ground and tear out my throat- I swung my blade.

I channeled all that I had into one single strike.

The sword cut a low-arching path in front of me, and I shut my eyes as the familiar shockwave of the impact traveled through my arm. I could almost _feel_ the blade grinding against bone as the sword sliced into the animal's leg. The wolf's scream was indescribable as it crumpled to the ground. I watched completely stunned as it writhed about on the ground in what appeared to be excruciating, unbearable pain. Its front right leg was gone. Completely gone.

And it just kept on howling.

The other wolf must have fled at some point, because it was no longer anywhere to be seen. My head was spinning, my hands were numb, and my entire body was drenched in a cold sweat.

And it just kept on howling. Screaming...

I dropped the sword. I couldn't take it. It sounded so much like a dog. So much like a _child_. I felt sick. I had to get out of there. Had to. I started to run, but suddenly remembered about the glass jar- the damned pine cones.

I frantically searched the patch of ground where I had dropped it. By some miracle, it had not broken, and I began shoving anything and everything that even remotely resembled a pine cone into the jar as the shrieks of the grievously injured wolf turned into plaintive, mournful whines. As I shoved the jar back into the bag and prepared to leave, I could not keep from looking once more at the animal. As I did so, a feeling of pity and grief began to eat away at me, and an enormous lump formed in my throat. I couldn't just walk away and let it suffer.

I picked up the sword, held it up high, and brought it down swiftly and mercifully.

It is one thing to practice and study the art of swordsmanship with its codes of honor and chivalry, and another thing entirely to plunge a blade into warm, living flesh and turn it into something cold, unmoving, and utterly devoid of life.

The wolf became silent and still.

As I reached the edge of the tree line, another roar echoed from the center of the forest. I took it for the warning that it was. Silverpines was no place for the likes of me, and I was more than happy to leave all of the memories of this place behind me. However, I knew in my heart that I wouldn't be able to forget so easily, and I would have to come to terms with the fact that I had shed blood and taken a life. If the blood of a wolf was so difficult to wipe from my conscience, then the blood of another human being...

No. Now was not the time to dwell on such heavy thoughts. Soon I would be back at the castle, looking into the Princess's lovely, smiling face. Things could only get better after such an ordeal. Surely the worst leg of this trip was over.

If only...


End file.
